Sundown
by Anna Marcelli Palmer
Summary: "We stayed there until the sun had started to set, voluntarily trapped in a room that smelled of sweat, lovemaking, and cat food." KnuxAmy
1. Prelude: Requiem For A Love Story

**Sundown**, _a novel by Anna Marcelli Palmer_

_**~Sundown is those mangy minutes the moon meets with the sun; two exact opposites cursed to never be, but try to touch the magic of love as they kiss every morning, until they are forcefully ripped apart by the daylight. Such is the desire for the forbidden that the two involved usually defy the worst hardships; pain, loss, remorse, hurting people who selflessly care about them, nothing seems to matter in front of their enormous sacrifice. They fade away the very moment they embrace. Night and day; Each of them, far away.**_

_I hold it true, whate'er befall;  
I feel it, when I sorrow most;  
'Tis better to have loved and lost  
Than never to have loved at all. -quoted by A. Tennyson_

The traffic lights were nothing but an indefinite bunch of impressionistic touches ahead, as they sparkled green and the obsolete car, an old-fashioned crock that had, apparently, seen better days, jigged forward with a horrendous screech. Plump raindrops tumbled across the windshield, small watery streams rendering the horizon a fancy blur; Chaotic neon signs, lamps shoddily cast across the sidewalk-all were mixed together to form what was his view through tear-seeped amethyst.

A smooth voice came from the portable radio resting next to the male, morbidly muffled by the intense plopping sound. Therefore, he paid no mind; his senses wandered somewhere else, balancing with uncertainty between the present and what had transpired just hours ago.

"_And now, for our listeners who are in love, an all time classic ballad from a much worshiped artist. Listed fifth in the US billboard chart, this song is a real tribute to all of you who-_

The mind pleaded for oxygen, lips parted to take a deep inhale. Click.

"_It's Christmas eve, the ideal time to pander and take care of those you love. So, especially for you who are tuned to our station, the love hit you've grown to adore-_

A grunt escaped his throat, as trembling fingers headed for the black device. Click.

"_...brings people together tonight, at nine o' clock. Don't forget to be there!-_

Like a lover selflessly sacrificing himself, as he dies the moment he kisses his betrothed, the small box made its vertiginous way out of the gaping window to scatter its sad remnants over the wet asphalt. In sheer madness, those violet eyeballs followed them as they danced for the last time, bouncing awkwardly on the sturdy surface.

He had paid this specific radio countless _fucking_ dollars.

Soon he found himself screaming at the dead radio like a madman, cursing it as if it were at fault for all his current troubles. All his despair, and hatred, were put into those primeval, incoherent screams, whilst the old vehicle jumped uncertainly from side to side.

And then, it happened, in a flash; the car veered abruptly to avoid an incoming bus, and then repeated the process with a small flock of pedestrians. The world was spinning its chaotic dance to his mind, all the echidna could discern was a jumbled mess of colors, and yet he would still cry out his complaint to the defunct device, _I Hate you! I Hate you...!_

Shrieks of sheer dread and the loud patter of people running for dear life came to his ears muffled, but never made it to surpass the potential of his own increasing octaves, the solo slowly reaching a grandiose crescendo, _I Hate you! _

Having no conscious contact with the brain, his foot stepped on the gas. The Universe accelerated, moving faster, twirling and hopping like a cheerful toddler. Tires formed steaming circles on the road, and then died with a moribund squeal. The collision was now unavoidable, albeit the pattern would yet again be the same, _I hate you!_

The noise that followed was the one that would probably back musically the day of Apocalypse; the last thing to cross his tired mind wasn't that he would die, but that he was already dead, as the side of the vehicle collided into an impudent tree that had dared germinate in the man's way. Spectacularly ending the breathtaking sequence of special effects, the small Chevrolet was crumpled up like a tin of coca cola, the fact being an epilogue to its life rather sad.

As for the renowned guardian, desperate, body full of nasty cuts, he was peacefully leaning against the steering wheel, cries having abated to give their place to a silent whimper.

_What did I do...?Why did you leave like this, for the Master Emerald's sake?_

_I hate you...Amy. _

* * *

"_I am sorry...but we just can't be"_

"_Don't go!"_

"_...B-but this way we are both hurting people we love..."_

"_You matter much more"_

It was one more lonely night spent at home. Ludicrous soap operas droned on aimlessly behind the screen, and the plastic container next to the couch was now empty, long forgotten, traces of chocolate still attached to its sides. Next to it, lying motionless, was a young woman; eyes red from crying, look vacant, one couldn't say whether she was awake or had already entered the world of dreams.

_"I know..."_

_"So, why are you leaving? I'd thought you felt..."_

_"You are so naive at times...But life always goes on, and I cannot turn back"_

Fadeout in black. A melancholic sequence of notes filled the air gracefully, accompanying the countless names appearing on the screen; yet another fake, mass-aimed romance had ended, giving its place to the next artistic masterpiece. Nevertheless, the pink-furred female couldn't care less about the calibre of what she watched. All she needed was a stupid thing to occupy her mind, to just drag it from where it had been wandering off to for the last two weeks.

Idly, competing with the time record of a limping slug, a delicate arm fumbled its way through the ghastly mess that, apparently, comprised the appartment floor, in desperate search of the ice cream. Determined texture sensors, fingers convulsed up and down, scrutinizing the surface, pleading for what they wanted.

_Come on, come on, come on...._

The alarm finally gave positive signals. Something smooth and plastic brushed slightly against her thumb. She stretched her body a little more, _Come on!_

With a little further effort, fingertips dragged the obect toward the girl, irises gleaming in hope. Already able to feel the consoling sensation of filenthilamine overwhelming her mouth, Amy Rose brought the tube before her, eagerly positioning it on her lap.

In a matter of seconds, the key to her sweet escape vanished in front of the monstrous reality of the empty box.

Oh, well.

_There is no God. _

The characteristic screech echoed in the nocturnal silence, as arms held tightly on the side to reluctantly force the whole body to stand up. After having remained in that specific position for what had seemed like ages, she'd thought it would be impossible to ever move again. Palms made their way to the back, softly rubbing it. Grunt. And then a loud yawn.

Her feet were freezing cold with every lurch forward, as they met with the sturdy marble of the floor. Amy's destination was the small room that, out of rich imagination, she liked to call a kitchen; cartons of milk, rotten food remains and a gigantic pile of dirty dishes rendered the place virtually harmful to someone's personal hygiene. Sonic would ask what was going on with her, remembering the good ol' days when she lived up to her reputation of being tidy and an awesome cook. The only answer he always got was that his fiancee` was just through a bad patch.

"Yeah", the young woman hissed ironically to herself as she remembered those words, "a horrendous one"

Emeralds roamed the surroundings for an elusive instant, only to grind their pace to a halt at the familiar sight of the old fridge; it was on the blink for many weeks, yet she had sworn to never throw it away. As if delusional, Amy strided towards the electric device, eyes gazing at but not really seeing it. She stopped right before it, almost in awe.

...Then, almost magically, optics could make out two faint shadows slowly taking their final form. The figures seemed to wrestle and kiss at the same time, bodies pleading for affection, minds screaming it was nothing but wrong. Red and pink all over. Amethyst entwined with emerald. Overwhelming feelings entwined with remorse.

Gloved palms reached for her shivering torso, then she let herself bend like a broken doll. An invisible fist was clenched around her neck, rendering it impossible to breathe, to think, to cry. Paranoia took over, and the hurt female, tired, unable to care about what was real and what not, hands outstretched, reached for the metallic box.

The couple had now knelt right beside her. Muscular, powerful, the man's arms detained the weaker one, her wrists being immobilized by his firm grip. Sounds, whispers.

Amy found herself leaning against the frigid surface, snuggling closer, senses filled with the memory of the warmth of his body against hers...

...And all the pain, betrayal and lies the previously mentioned entailed.

Set on fire, the two now seemed intoxicated, exploring a new universe of their own nothing was likely to deprive them of. Souls engaged, mouths trying to pull apart from each other before an unwanted power brought them together yet another time, angel and demon battled, as if for dear life; love, hate, pain, regret were all savagely stuffed into that primeval, desperate war of trial and retreat. There was no winner; both of them would eventually be defeated.

_"Amethyst and Emerald...? Has it ever happened to read about how awfully those two clash?"_

Pupils shrank, eyelids being shot wide open in crude terror.

_(((giggle)))_

_"Nope"_, the memory cooed carefreely beneath the skull_, "After all, I like the way your hot-headed demeanor tickles my nerves-Hay! What was that for?!?"_

Logic evaporated, vocal cords struggling to suppress a shriek.

_(((laugher)))_

_"That, m' lady, was for you to never forget that I am stronger and you are the ticklish one..."_

_"Whoa, never seen the cute side of a fearless guardian..."_

_"Wha-I am not cute!", the echidna winced in slight protest_.

Eyes remained stubbornly dry, as the illusion moved on showing no mercy, scorching her very entrails, shattering the heart.

_(((Sigh)))_

_"Sure you aren't, Mr. Grumpy!"_

_"Wait, I'm not grumpy!"_

_"Yes, you are!"_

_"Call your blue hero that, I am-"_

_"Yes, YOU ARE!" _

_"I'm not!"_

_"You are!"_

_"I'm not!"_

_"You are!"_

_"Oooooh, FINE!", the crimson guardian grimaced in vexation. Rose gave him a wide smile, tilting her head so as to feel his warm breath on her face. _

_"C'mon, tell me the story now!" _

Orbs had frozen in a morbid embrace with the abyss, as the ghosts gradually faded away. Amy Rose wrapped her arms around herself, for the room was suddenly cold, and her silk camisole didn't seem to help much. Eyelids closed shut, a slight whisper faltered in the air, calm and sad like a midnight ballad.

"No, Knuckles...I want no more stories...I am too old to believe in them anymore..."

* * *

_(((...Sir?)))_

_(((Are you alright, Sir...?)))_

An excruciating pain welcomed him into the world of the awake, throbbing inside the head. Eyelashes fluttered for an instant, then eyes were automatically forced shut by an impudent glimmer of sunlight passing through the hospital curtains.

_(((Oh, sweet Jesus! He's hurt his head! Sir! Sir!)))_

_(((Call an ambulance, for God's sake! Quick!)))_

Lips parted to form a single word, _Amy_, albeit the male's throat felt dry and somewhat sore. No voice made it out of the mouth; slight motions of the muscles thereof indicated what the animal had atttempted to utter.

_(((Sir?)))_

_(((Sir???)))_

Where was he? And what had happened last night? Was the Master Emerald okay? Questions wandered in his brain, indefinite and unsure.

"Sir?"

The deep, hoarse voice that had spoken those mere three letters was not a part of his imagination,

now it was clear. It had echoed from somewhere near, and Knuckles turned his head to define the identity of the speaker. The echidna's unprepared face met with an aged, oval one, a thick moustache belying his benign expression of reserved interest. A dark, blue uniform complemented the stranger's appearance; it was more than obvious that his unknown visitor was a cop.

All the newborn jumbled mess that currently danced in his mind was summarised in a concise statement.

"What did I do?"

The older one tried to keep a straight face and not to smile, a gesture Knuckles didn't make it to decipher. _What's funny, you living fossil?_

The clock resting on the wall above the uncomfortable bed sent unwanted shudders with every single tick. After what had seemed like ages of suffocating silence, the officer stretched his right hand toward the injured young man.

"Officer Mark Andrews, nice to meet you", he chirped, and then the affable expression turned into a stringent one, "My reckless friend"

"I am not your friend", snarled the star of the scene beneath clenched teeth, violet pools glaring at his interlocutor, "And I think I just asked what I have done"

An awkward minute followed, during which the old man fumbled deep in the pockets of his jacket, the enigmatic smirk still being frozen on his face. From time to time, the process would stop for a tiny moment, when he would roll his eyeballs up to meet Knuckles'. The latter could not but just patiently wait for the outcome, which, apparently, was not likely to be pleasant; he was sleepless, exhausted, and a pulsating migraine was currently residing his head.

No; bandying around was not a good option.

Officer Andrews' thick hand interrupted his train of thought, stretched before the male in silent offer of a cigarette. Look moved from the small pack to the wrinkle-filled face and then back to the pack, only to repeat the process afterwards.

Knuckles quickly gestured "no", eliciting a friendly chuckle from the cop, who made himself comfortable on the metallic chair, eyes wandering into the room distractedly.

"Let's see", he murmured, bringing a yellow lighter to the cylindrical object between his lips. Soon after, the aged one was hidden behind a cloud of smoke.

"Let's see what?"

Laugh. The guardian would swear there was nothing more hair-triggering than the feeling that sound gave; Should there be a way to interpret the meaning of such exclamations, this one would certainly be like, _I can see right through your mind. Deal with it. _

"Well, irritable young man, here's what we've got: Dangerous Driving, including violation of the speed limit, overconsumption of alcohol, ignoring the traffic lights and", at that point the speaker raised an eyebrow, in an attempt to keep a straight face, "Throwing a radio out of the window. Needless to say, you have already intrigued me"

The Irritable Young Man rolled his violet eyes, utterly annoyed. Suddently, staying for twenty four hours in a cell listening to nothing but ridiculous Christmas love songs seemed like a relieving oasis in a world of unspeakable torment.

_All I need at this point is your patronizing. As if those damned cops are taught how to say all that bullshit. _

_Oh, God. I will never curse again. Just lemme go to my nice lonely island._

Arms were crossed before the chest, a clear hint of sheer irritation.

"It wasn't your radio I flung across the Highway after all, was it?"

A nonchalant shrug followed the mocking.

"Nope"

"Then knock it off!"

The thunderous snigger gradually died down. Peace was finally restored, leaving only smoldering embers under the stifling heat of that deadly glare; If a single look had the power to kill, all the facilities within two kilometers would have been transformed into a deplorable heap of ashes. Sharp needls, Knuckles' eyes mentally pinned the human, showing no mercy.

...On the other hand, the victim of the blatant attack didn't seem to bother. Exhaling deeply was all he did in reaction to the confrontation.

"As you wish" the declaration was such an impersonal one, that it sounded like the overaged curmudgeon was reciting a funny poem he didn't really like. With a last peek at the patient, Mark Andrews lied back to the rigid piece of furniture that was, he thought afterwards, likely to aggravate his back later, and found refuge behind the fierce smoke.

Quiet stroke back, leaking around them to form streams. Frozen in the inauspicious way people in a photograph gaze forever into Nothingness, Crime and Law exchanged swift glances of both curiosity and incompleteness. There was something that hadn't been told. Confessions bubbled beneath the ribcage, desperately seeking someone to share them with. Who that specific "someone" was going to be, it didn't matter at all; All the bleeding soul prayed for was a listener, be it a policeman, a nurse, or a darn object.

_I am not pathetic. _

_...Am I..?_

Knuckles' consciousness never consented, albeit the body itself insisted on doing, literally, whatever it wished to. Therefore, no sooner had the existential question popped into his head than the guardian felt the upper side of a gloved hand sweeping an uninvited tear.

The male froze in his tracks, overtly alarmed.

The gloved hand was his.

At the motion, smart, grey pools rolled to rest on his face, the triumphant thrill of victory glaring in their very depths.

Andrews had won, and he knew it.

"Ever since...", Knuckles finally blurted out, and it felt no different from a murmur, eliciting sudden interest from the priorly nonchalant officer. The speaker tested the words between the lips, as if trying to make out whether they sounded good together; suddently, he was ambivalent, and didn't want to show to a complete stranger, let alone such a zany one, how weak the robust, powerful hero actually was.

Yet, the mask was becoming so heavy to wear! His real self, raw, bald, deprived of the fancy wrapper, along with every flaw, ugliness, and devastating fears, begged to be unveiled, just for that once.

"Ever since I remember myself, I have been living for a promise to my tribe. My life was not mine; having not seen how it really was out there, it didn't seem to matter much, back then...."

The narrator could hardly swallow.

"Ya know. You grow up as a loner, years pass like days and you don't remember how. And then -_boom!- _something happens, and for the very first time you find yourself within reach of everything you were void of."

Knucles chuckled bitterly. His eyes were abstractly fixated on the worn covers of the bed, looking at but not really seeing them.

"What a stupid thought"

"Stupid" a slight movement of the head introduced the interjection, "or greedy?"

An indefinite gesture answered, _yes. _

"How couldn't I've become greedy with those new riches to feed the feeling? Bah, let's not be dramatic. I had a hell of a time with my friends, and loved them. Sure, we sort-of-but-not-quite bickered, but that made it all the more fun"

Memories. Big and small, important and petty. What daunting a power did they have, to bring tears to his eyes.

"But yeah, I wanted more"

It was getting difficult to inhale, poignant to think, impossible not to break. Fingers trembled against the sheets.

"And lost it all"

Deep in thought, the old cop probed his moustache before leaning forward in consolation.

"And what for?"

Tingling turned into convulsing shivers. Fists clutched savagely the fabric underneath, as the three letters bulged under his tongue, ready to explode.

"Her"

* * *

Red, gold, pink, and violet were all mixed together dexterously into what comprised the sunrise, as God happily showed off His skills at paintbrushing. Touches of azure and a warm orange gradually dominated the canvas, as the fiery solar disk, flamboyant and proud, marched his way up to his celestial throne. Light showered the vast chaos of the city, rolling vivaciously along its many streets, watching its face being reverberated on the pristine, icy surface. Sounds, and the surpassing music of nature itself welcomed the world to purity yet another time.

And, like this, a new morning began, and Station Square was brought to life.

Playful gleams of sunlight penetrated the small window above the sink, particles of dust frolicking carefreely under their shine. Maybe it was plain fate, maybe deliberately -who knows?- that one of those had chosen to rest on the refridgerator, against which, freezing cold and scruffy, had snuggled a rosy girl, breathing peacefully between light sobs. Her face, still untouched by the cosmic ugliness, had gloomed a deadly white, dirty and sticky by the tear layers that had dried on it, hour after hour.

Rude beam! How did it lay on the sleeping female, blindening and eerie, causing clozed eyes to instictively twitch! Its warmth slipped gently across her exposed limbs and all the way up to long, untamed hair, creating the hallucination of being loved and cared for.

"Knuckles...?" it was more of a waning hope, huskily expressed by a pair of parted lips.

No answer came. Amy's voice echoed like a complaining bewail in the little world of the empty apartment, and felt like a stab in the heart. A youthful pair of jades was forced open in the realization; it was reminiscent of those times when, like the hero of some ancient drama, you are called to comply with painful, new facts, and yet you will still stick to the life you know, for it is easier that way... And then paranoia takes over, sweet and paralyzing like an effective poison, to devour your insides until the onlookers burst into enthusiastic applause.

Unwrapping her arms off the device, she soon stood on her feet. Thoughts prowled around the mind patiently, waiting to get form and a meaning. _Why was she letting herself be like that?_ _How had she ended up being like that? What to do? How the hell could she pick up the pieces...once more...?_

Obviously, the easiest perspective was to go for the third one, which she immediately did. Pulling the handle of the last night's bed fellow, the hedgehog stretched herself distractedly, eyes examining the rotten content. Smell was immediately emanated to meet her nose, twirling and hopping toward its ultimate destination.

Amy flinched. Sweet Jesus, did she have to clean up.

She run a gloved palm through her messy quills, in a sad excuse of an attempt to tidy them up. Then, the young woman decidedly grabbed a bottle of orange juice and headed for the table, slamming the door behind her.

The glass was now long empty, abandoned on the rim of the table, keeping company to the odd array of paper sheets and pencils not far away from it. A chaotic ocean of crumpled letters was lying ahead, hungry to engulf the next failure.

The kitchen was rather silent; the noise of pencil running against the notebook was monotonous, calm, negligible. Other than that, solely aloof voices from outside made it to the ears, as the pink female was engrossed in watching the characters flow on the white material, as if from an unknown power motivating her hand. She didn't know why she was doing this, and nor did she care; it felt so right, although it, in fact, was nothing more than a poor substitute to actually talking to him, being in his arms, hearing his voice.

Jolting her head back in the air, Amy took a deep breath before starting to read over the things she had written until that moment. They weren't much; rough scribble all over the page, her letters filled shoddily every line, overflowing with irrepressible emotions.

So much for yet another vain romance.

_Life used to be so simple before I met you. I mean, before I met the real you. Back then, you were just a hot-headed friend we liked to poke fun at, and my wants were defined and clear. _

Amy laughed at the nostalgic memories overcoming her; those days seemed to be so far away...

_But relationships, as well as feelings, do die, you know. They just perish, and you usually are loath to admit it, but you can feel it overcast your happiness with every single tick of the clock. And it hurts more than anything. Because I know I failed him. We failed them. And now I failed you. _

_Now what, you tell me. I don't know. I don't know how I will ever face him again, basing our relationship on a pile of lies. I don't know what our friends will think, when they see that cheerful, kind-hearted Amy, the Amy they knew, has betrayed two of her most loved persons in the world and is now slowly going insane. Heck, it doesn't matter. It was for you. _

_Yeah, it is nice to feel as if I'm talking to you. Right now, I can bring your face in front of my eyes. You're smiling. Oh, I remember how you loved stories...! Your first life was so much in need of them, and you wanted to live as much as you could from what you'd lost._

_I am sorry I didn't stand by you, on your personal querry. _

Thumb brushed affectionately over the letters, the true madness of Loss gleaming in emerald pools.

And she wrote...

_But this is yet another narration, right? Every story has a beginning. For this one...it was Christmas, and Emerald, without knowing it, was to collide into the world of Amethyst. It would only take a fateful moment to turn everything the upside down, before they fell apart. _

_And this was to become my story._

_..._Our _story..._

* * *

**A/N: Knuxamy???? (SonAmyKnux, to be precise) Lol, what happened to me? Geez, I dunno. Lately, I am into the pairing, the idea was good, the results on my poll called for it...so here it is!**

**I hope you liked it and enjoyed as much as I did, for this was for all of you fanfic lovers!**

**~This was a small prelude to the actual story, which begins with an unwanted visitor and chapter 1. Stay tuned!**

**~For those who love other pairings, I inform you that I am writing a serious shadamy story which, hopefully, I will publish in a few weeks or so. AND, don't forget my Sonamy "Vertigo".**

**Review, s' il vous plait! **

**See ya!**

**Friendly,**

**~Anna Marcelli Palmer**


	2. Ch 1: Fateful

**Chapter 1: Fateful **

"_**Fate is like gravity. You can jump up and down till your heart's content, but the Earth still falls into the Sun, and the Sun still courses through the galaxy, both indifferent to your short-lived and insignificant defiamce" (anonymous) **_

_One thousand five hundred and fourty four, one thousand five hundred and fourty five, one thousand five hundred and fourty six... _

_...Err...seven._

That was my life; leaves that comprised the foliage above me, as I protected myself from the Sun. And then, when that holy timekeeper set and darkness fell upon the island, I would sit by the Altar, head leaning back, and watch the starlit sky...

...Counting. Even that is a way to get your mind to work-when you are alone.

But, as they say, duty is duty, isn't it? How can a Guardian defy his fate? My greatest responsibility and sole company was none other than the Master Emerald-source of unlimited cosmic power and all that has remained of the rich history of a whole tribe; my tribe.

As you can see yourself, I am an Echidna; my species is worldwidely known as long extingt-a whole chronicle of catastrophy that only left a sole descendant. What nobody knows, though, is how precious the phenomenically small legacy they left is. A cursed legacy for a cursed person.

Yeah, I really believe I am cursed, , don't ask for details, it's just....

...it's just that I c-cant love.

Before all that mess transpired, back to the times when our lil' "gang" was strongly united, my friends would think of me as a loner, or, to be more precise, a true avoidant. Seems logical. That power...the emerald...is a burden, a heavy cargo on my shoulders threatening to get me down; there were days when I'd just be with the team-hanging out, playing games, helping each other, arguing; it didn't really matter-and the mere thought of the unpotected altar would automatically overshadow every trace of joy, or even happiness. You cannot imagine how demeaning and plain paranoic it is for a theoretically logical person to hate an oblect, with every meaning, parameter, and and darn way the term can entail.

But I had no choice.

It just devoured every single bit of my personality. Smashed my inner dreams. Sometimes, I'd just feel the rage grow, and grow, and grow, and when it was about to explode, I'd think of my position; unable to do anything, responsible for the remnants of an era to whom I didn't belong...and nor had I ever known.

_And that's why I hated her. _

_..._She had everything. Friends, a life of her own, and so many people to care about her. Carefree, and able to chose whatever she wanted to do in her life. Family. Career. Voyages. Friggin' Bungee Jumping.

In a way, Amy posessed everything I would consiously never have. And yet preferred to spare it all for a childish caprice. I don't know if I found it pathetic or plain idiotic. But it was totally enervating to think of; the girl bloody mourned over a man that rejected her. How mature of a person that has been immensely benefitted from God.

When you are desperate, or just sick of your own life, it is easy to find a way out by secretly looking down on the problems of other people, with the silent, personal mocking one indulges in; and it usually implies that _you are happy it is not at all likely to happen to you. _

Mwa -ha. Mwa-ha-ha. How funny.

Naaw, not the _mocking _itself. But those smartasses who say all that bullshit and yeah, apparently they _believe them. _

No, no: don't interrupt me. You haven't heard the punchline of the joke yet!

Oh, my. Will. You. Love. It.

{{{sarcastic laugh}}}

One of those self proclaimed "smart" guys, let exactly that thing happen to him.

He madly, incorrigibly, and totally loved _her. He adored her. He hurt. He held her dear as though she were his personal Patron Saint. He fought, and in general, did everything every logical person would have avoided like an angel avoids the Devil. _

Oh, and he enjoyed every single second of it.

* * *

I had grown up among people who loved me, in a small town everyone would secretly or openly dream of, to be yet another random spoilt girl who possesses every single toy on the market and insists on crying over a broken doll. Not of overweening conceit, nor vulnerable; just demanding, with a tendency to want what I couldn't have.

Not that I had ever intended to play Scarlett O' Hara from _Gone With The Wind. _My fantasies confined themselves to a fault when it came to dramatic female roles. Being the young, overtly happy girl I was, my sole desire was to become the passionate princess of some Celtic myth, to be saved by her very own handsome hero and lead a happy, long life; my mind simple; my scenario overused; Amy Rose, the ever-being damsel in distress, and the well-known world's savior. A cute, fluffy romance book in a fancy hardback edition.

Still, a piece of me lives _in_ and _for_ those days. Life was everything but complicated. No convoluted plans of the future, no duties, no adult feelings and no serious bonds we call relationships. I had my problems, I don't deny that: you used to laugh at that, and _he _later informed me on your burlesque mimicks of my girly attitude. Mean you! A person void of mature feelings-as my childish mind interpreted it- couldn't comprehend the inner code of a hurt female: because it really hurt, and no matter how much today's Amy convicts then's Amy for immaturity and naivety, she truly, truly fell for that blue hedgehog...

The Blue Hedgehog.

Another huge blessing. Love, purpose of life, day, night, survival. All of it was accumulated in a pair of jade green eyes. Yup! I didn't need no other motivation. To contemplate on my feelings was useless. A look to the future always seemed to solely cry out _marriage. _Responsibility was simply an adult-ish essay word to someone whose hobbies restricted themselves down to just chasing a lover-to-be; the damsel in distress had found her destiny and only had to find a magic potion.

The angel me says it was cute. The devil me calls it pathetic. I call it nothing, being no better now.

The other members of the team, persons that had given me love, sympathy, comfort, and honest friendship seemed like parts of a minor scene, a background. My eyes were always blindly fixated on the star, but now I know it was a scenery one couldn't do without: ocean and sun, trees and sounds. And if the star was gone, then I would survive, for I'd still eat fruit, I'd still drink water, light would still caress my skin.

Now that I'll lose them, what, Knuckles? What?

It was both our fault, you know? But deep inside, even if I don't want to admit it to myself, the cause of it all was me, and me alone; after so many years of pointlessly seeking love in Sonic, my brain would stop functioning if it realized the real extent of what those youthful feelings had overcome; love waned, and slowly became yet another memory of my teenage years.

Grief remained, like a blood stain on a white t-shirt.

That's were you, Sir, came.

You didn't exactly _dislike_ me. And I didn't exactly _dislike_ you. You just were a random remote acquaiantance, a boring, aloof guy with many transactions with duty I used to hate. Once in a blue moon, we'd come together for the sake of the team, but even then, harmless fights were unavoidable. I still wary over whether this was because we were so much alike or so much different from each other. Nevertheless, it made me believe love and hate are close as hell to paradise.

With you, Knuckes The Echidna, I felt both, and found both.

Love and hate.

Hell and Paradise.

Us.

* * *

[…]

Looking back at those times, I cannot help thinking; how did I become the victim of my own sarcastic demeanor? Tell me, officer: does it ever happen to you to consider something so remote from your humble reality, so impossible to happen, that you just relax in the back of your couch and enjoy your movie? I used to reassure myself in that way; in the beginning, when I secretly laughed at Sonic finally giving in to that stubborn girl's wants, and later, when my mind took a path of its own and eagerly danced towards her without my permission, and even later, at an insane night that found me screaming behind 'er back.

I wasn't a greedy person, my friend. I never wanted money. Immortality was jus' a fancy word to me. Love was the last thing I thought of when the spring tickled my senses.

No. I 'm not the type for great passions.

_They_ came to me.

* * *

...Just a random thought, one of the zillions that crossed my mind but now are never bound to be answered; is this your real name, or you were just dubbed liked this because of your trademark?

Just a random thought, though.

* * *

**I had initially intended to make it longer, but the text format and the sequence of events in my mind called for a short one. The third chap is getting finished soon. It is entitled "100 Ways To Lose Your Lover". Corny, no?**

**But naaaw. 'M trying to bee shea-ree-whoosh. XD**

**You know I'll fail. **

**Mwahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!**

**~Anna**


	3. Ch 2: 100 Ways To Lose Your Lover

**Chapter 2: -100 Ways To Lose Your Lover- **

"_**I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken -- and I'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived."**_

_**(quoted by Margaret Mitchell) **_

It felt warm; it felt sticky; it felt liquid.

And, apparently, succumbing to the ruthless laws of gravity, it had just tumbled down police officer Mark Andrews' cheek. The subject immediately averted an aged face not to be seen by his interlocutor.

"Women" was all he could utter, voice on pupose indifferent. The cigarette, now half burnt and of a rather bad quality hanged deplorably from a pair of thin lips, heroically crowned with a thick grey moustache. It fidgeted awkwardly for a second in its uncomfortable position before it, unexpectedly, fell to the ground.

"Ghhhhh", grunted the middle-aged curmudgeon and slouched in a pitiful attempt to grab the deserter. After the third failure his right shoe took over, obliterating the damnable one with a single push. Then eyes rolled to meet Knuckles' face.

"What 're ya waiting for, kid?" it was more of an order than a mere question, and the echidna had no other choice than that of cooperation, since his emotional state was too bad for him to be alone and yet too good for him to say no.

The younger male exhailed deeply.

"It was Christmas" he began, as though it were a schizophrenic conversation between Knuckles and err, well,_ Knuckles_, "and my best friend had one of his usual ingenious ideas...well, that's the problem with them, _he thinks_ they are ingenious and we've never said anything, exactly because he is happy they are so..."

The orator pseudo-coughed for an instant, lost his train of thought, looked around, remembered what he was bound to say and re-opened his mouth.

"Anyway...this one was probably the worse of 'is ideas. Or the best-I don't know. The fact is that I somehow found myself having dinner at her appartment..."

The narrative was suddently interrupted by the sound of a lighter contacting a new cigarette gently, with the grace of someone that holds his breath to maintain the silence.

* * *

The pencil froze immobile above the letter-riddled scrap of paper. Immersed as she was in her writing, emerald orbs instantly focused on the small black device on the other side of the table. Dread lied deep in them, the stark, frigid, spiky, unexplainable fear of a soldier looking at his small knife weirdly contrasted with an enormous troop of indignant moving tanks. Holding her breath, Amy hugged herself and unwillingly stared at the inanimate object as if it had life in it and listened to her own cheerful voice filling the room, morbid like a video of a person long bygone.

"_Hiya! This is Amy Rose's appartment, and since you are listening to this, then I am absent at the moment and blah blah blah. Oh, and if it is something really, really, really important, then leave your message and pray for me to listen to it after the characteristic sound."_

The girl half smiled. Then a soft, benign female voice filled the air.

"_Hey Amy...it's me, Cream. Is everything alright? Missie, I 'll have to come check your vital signs!" _

Silence. For a second, the other side seemed completely dead.

"_...Look, I know how you're feeling. Or, at least, I am trying to-look, Amy, I don't know how or why things got so mixed up, but I 'm starting to worry..." _

"-Cream shut up-....."

"_I know what you will say-I am younger than you, I couldn't possibly understand. Truth is, at fifteen I've never had a serious relationship to say for sure... but I know you. Don't do anything stupid, will you promise?" _

"Shut up"

"_God, I hate myself for what I said to you about Mr. Knuckles...Sorry...we're still friends, right...?"_

Amy rolled her eyes over the last few paragraphs she had just composed. A tiny chuckle escaped her lips. _Cream still calls him a "mister"... _

"Yes", was the answer, even though nobody was able to hear it, "We still are".

* * *

"No!"

"But why?"

"I said no!"

It was probably the millionth time I bothered repeating the same two letters to a literally deaf person; no matter what people around him felt or wanted, Sonic would still stick to his own way of thinking. Which, unfortunately, included the rest succumbing to all of his ideas. Oh, well.

"This thing is making you sick!" the Blue Bible had opened yet again. It always started out like _Knucklehead whaddabout this and Knucklehead waddabout dat yadda yadda blah blah, _and by default, ninety nine point ninety nine percent of such conversations ended with me being in serious trouble.

And, needless to say, _ninety nine point ninety nine_ percent of it was _deadly. _

"Are you_ dead serious_?!?" , it was probably the longest thing I'd managed to utter in three hours of ruthless Sonic Talk. But that was no surprise; even a normal, sociable person would have underwent a mental breakdown under these circumstances.

My friend rolled his jade green eyes in exasperation.

"It 's the happiest time of the year, for cryin' out loud!"-he really did think he was some kind of passionate advocate, I thought at that exclamation- "Nobody should be alone"

I laughed. Without controlling it. And it was mad...and efortless...it just flew impulsively. The blue male glared at me, and I'd bet he would never be able to understand my view upon life. Geez, why should he, after all? I mean, Sonic's the protagonist, man! For some reason, the girls like him. For some reason, no matter what the other members of the team can achieve, he will be the one saving the world. For some reason, everyone will know him, and him alone in the end of the day. For some reason, he has friends and admirers, and adherent fans, and journalists after him.

And for some reason, he always, _always, _runs away from it all at that chaotical speed of his.

[[[chuckle]]]

"Oh, yeah" the hiss came on its own, air bulging in my chest as infuriating -did I pronounce the thing correctly?- thoughts overcame me.

"Huh?"

"Yup, sure it is!" 'm not quite sure about the tone of it being said at, but the initial intention was a cynical one. My fists clenched, before I realize it. "...and also the ideal one to feed those friggin' shopkeepers, and enrich the market, and exchange impersonal lil' presents with relatives and people that you normally can't stand, and give love vows to run away the next day, and hug everyone and everything regardless of who or even _what _they are, and organize huge dinners to raise money and buy beans for the Third World the moment you 're gorging roast duck with gourmet salad, but it's perfectly FINE, since it's bloody jumpy happy Christmas!"

'Kay, it will sound funny, but I could almost see the audience breaking into phsyched applause as the passionate monologue came to an end. Sonic was left dumbstruck, eyes wide open.

Blink; once, twice, thrice.

"I am your best friend, man!" he protested.

I looked up in despair. What a dogged attitude that guy had, anyway?

[…]

Ugh...whatever. Thing is, deep inside he may_ indeed_ be a good orator. I mean, to use the emotional persuasive techniques so effectively!

Ah, yes; I went to have dinner with them the next day.

* * *

Yet another homemade concert had started.

It began with a slow, shy caress of the audio street, to evolve into an uncertain solo. On no delay did the rejoinder arrive; increasing octaves glued together in a splendidly sung vibrato technique to reach a grandiose crescendo shortly after.

Three minutes of silence heroically heralded the third movement, comprised of low tones, full of guilt and tact, played at an extremely quick pace. But the virtuoso solist wanted to show off his skills once more, short and ironic, to be straightly followed by yet another diminuendo part. Soon, both musicians had raised their inspired hands up in the air, gesturing in sync with the tune, immersed in the artistic passion.

And that was the main pattern of the improvisation. Crescendo to diminudendo, pianissimo to sforzando and way from the beginning. Passers by dashed away in delirium to dodge the possibility of a deafness plague afflicting the quarter. Crystal glasses, fragile dinnerware sets and rare curios were put in a safe place within two kilometers of distance from the small apartment. Neighbors darted from place to place, in desperate search for their fallen earlobes.

He had one of his usual ideas.

"C' mon, Ames, why not?", Sonic had worn his usual reproachful mask, pouting like a child as always. It had been nearly half an hour that we were arguing, and he still had quite an appetite.

"Because!" I retorted, striding across the room pointlessly, eyes up in exasperation, "You promised me that we'd have Christmass together, away from duties and those friends of yours!"

"--"

"No, I'll finish first! I hardly know the guy, plus, it is my apartment! You wanna be polite, take him to your place! I am not your slave, nor your personal chef!"

Two years. Just two years of relationship and fights were getting all the more habitual. I even found myself snapping at my fiancee` for no reason. The princess was to marry her hero, they kissed and gave vows of eternal love. That's where every fairytale ends, and no book has ever bothered to show what happened afterwards. So, where's the american dream of impecability? Where is the love story and where the affection?

So, every night I would lie and contemplate on my wants. Was that all Amy wanted and could afford? Visions of my future life only left a scared me wondering.

_But I love him. _

"For God's sake, Amy, no!" Sonic grabbed me politely by the shoulders, taking me into a loving hug, "I want a chef, I hire one. But I only want my girl-and that's you!"

Unconsciously, I smiled.

"_Liar!"_

I held back a giggle at the feeling of his lips brushing against my cheek. A pang of remorse hit me; patient, carefree, and naïve he was, he would always give in and calm his hysterical bride down.

And the hysterical bride always let him down.

"Look, let's just order, kay? I want you to be happy, and have a memorable holiday with your moronish man. But Knuckles is so lonely up there. Even he has the right to have fun, no?"

I kissed him lightly on the lips.

"That's what I want too, Sonic"

We laughed.

"Let's just stop arguing"

Soon after he left. Dark as it was getting, I went to bed. That's when I drowned my thoughts once more, repeating my personal spell as the happenings of the day flashed beneath my closed eyes.

_But you love him, _I thought, and drifted to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

**That's all, folks! After a horrid patch of writer's block and many duties, I strike back with tons of inspiration!**

**Special thanks to Acquaisland-Caroamy and my friend Shadecrystal for their reviews. **

**Review, Review, Review!!!**

**~Anna**


	4. Ch 4: I Said Shut Up

Chapter 3:-I Said Shut Up-

_**A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.  
(quoted by Ingrid Bergman)**_

A kiss can be a comma, a question mark or an exclamation point. That's basic spelling that every woman ought to know.  
( quoted by Mistinguett (Jeanne Bourgeois)

And so in the night of 25 December, at eight and thirty two precisely, outside a typical modern high rise in the outskirts of Station Square, I found myself in a pair of jeans and a ridiculous leather jacket, freezing cold under a snow layer at least two centimeters thick that had chosen to rest on my head and shoulders with all of its rudeness. My arm had a major fight with the brain as to whether or not push the third button at the side of the entrance, on which the single word _Rose _could be seen.

Who won became obvious when a distorted female voice cooed, "Who is it?"

My mouth opened unwillingly. I had accepted to do this only for the sake of my friend, Amy's girly-ness had the weird tendency to dissolve my nerve system, and I was feeling like a fish out of the water. You can't call it the best of circumstances under which to start your evening.

But it was Christmas!

"Knuckles, is it you?"

_You can still run away, man...now that you have the opportunity..._

"Yes", was the most intelligent answer I could think of.

I pushed the door open and started ascending the stairs at the slowest pace possible. It sure needs to have a certain type of talent to always end up in a damn difficult position. To think that others try as hell to make their lives interesting, the moment a gifted echidna I know has been desperately searching a way to make his life normal and tranquil.

With zero results.

"Merry Christmas", she was simply dressed in a plain pullover and a pair of jeans, standing by the apartment's open door. Arms crossed, Amy Rose was casually leaning against the wall, staring at me. Obviously not enthusiastic with the view.

Nah. You couldn't tell we had the most intimate and fervor-ish of relationships.

"I am psyched to see ya too, thanks", I grunted, "Where's Sonic?"

The young woman before me moved her torso slightly forward in an attempt to stand straight, then took a step back to enter the house yet again. Jade eyes met mine, and in my state of total reluctance, it took me some time to understand that she had indirectly told me to go in.

"Sonic will be here in a minute or two...he's gone to buy some things for our dinner"

Her voice came remote from the small kitchen, while I, occupying my eyes with her appartment, tried to drag myself from moody thoughts . A single glance at the interior part cried out that the owner was a girl; a whole spectrum of blindeningly -good one for a crossword- bright colors welcomed visitors to a poky, but cozy nevertheless, living room. And that's where the decorator's imagination decided to run riot; you would see two couches facing each other, fuschia and orange respectively, that had, for some reason, exchanged pillows. Needless to say, the curtains behind each were in compliance with the whole room, full as they were with abstact motifs in various shades of orange.

Mercy, woman.

"So, how are things on the Angel Island?"

Geez, and small mirrors of every shape possible on the darn wall? Girl sure had quite a taste...

"I've stopped throwing parties, they kinda bored me"

...To urge a man to the brink of suicide. Urgh.

"Can you just for once be polite, for your friend's sake at least?"

_No, _I thought but automatically decided to keep the answer to myself. She was right. It really seemed insane, being so objective, and no matter how loath me was to admit it, I really had to do something 'bout my social skills.

Not that I had ever consciously opted for being all warm and fuzzy with that _fangirl. _

Yo, mister! Stop laughing, or I stop talking, kay? Love's blind, deaf and stupid, and after all, you asked for it. 'S not a comedy, so either go or knock it off!

Where did I stop? Ah, yup.

The voice had now come from somewhere very close, bringing me back to reality, musically backed by the subtle sound of the cooker. A very promising smell was emanating, filling the place, directly asking my stomach to become friends.

"What is that you're cooking?" a change of subject would probably save the already negatively charged atmosphere.

The pink hedgehog shrugged.

"I hope you like turkey"

For an unbearable, silent moment, I fidgeted awkwardly in my position. Perfect. Just perfect! Things were getting worse than one could ever possibly imagine.

And Christmas had just begun, yipes!

"Can cope with 'at"

_When, just when, will that blue idiot decide to come? He has saved so many people, can't he save me as well? Please? PLEASE?_

A deep, nervous exhale. Arms crossed. Eyes rolled to the ceiling and then stuck back on me.

"Okay",the murmur was faint, as if in death. "What, the heck do you expect me to do?"

* * *

It had been just so damn obvious.

From the moment Knuckles had come, he had been nothing but rude and objective towards me. No matter how hard I'd tried to put on that stupid smile of mine, no matter how desperately I wanted to show my husband-to-be that his hysterical bride could at least organise a dinner withought messing everything up. _Okay_, we didn't like each other. _Okay,_ we didn't talk much, and _okay_, he was a sulky loner that always called me "fangirl" behind my back, but couldn't the guy just this once help the situation?

Cleaning up, cooking and making arrangements had filled the whole day, broken my defenses. It was suffocating, and so much trouble for what? For the whole night to be an unpreceeded catastrophe.

Tears were lurking behind my eyes, ready to make their appearance as the result of twelve hours overflowing with confusion, stress, hurry and irritation. That is usually my reaction when I realise that there's nothing else to go wrong.

"Okay. What the hell do you want me to do?"

Are there any times when you have nothing else to do, and just ludicrously recollect past happenings, thinking them over and over, scrutinizing them slide by slide? I do that very often. It's pointless, but every single time ends up with the typical _You should have done this _and _You should have done that. _As if time can go back.

Most of my memory-immersion moments include this specific scene. Pathetic, silly, weak, so blatantly not me. I _hate __myself_ in that scene.

Knuckles remained silent, and his embarassment was quite apparent. Optics fixated on the carpet -by the way, I think he was a little appalled by my decoration- hands sheltering each other nervously, he would look anywhere but at me.

And then my reluctant interlocutor did the last thing expected, leaving me totally perturbed.

"He's laughing! That's what Sir did in response to an indignant female's outbreak! That's what I get back for my willingness to fill your stomach with high quality cuisine, you...you..."-being in a total state of crisis, I tried to think of the worst characterisation ever made- "_Anti-social abomination!" _

The term jaw-drop retired at that moment, powerless and insignificant before the view's glory.

After some time, during which his brain averted by chance a system breakdown, and after certain needed mental processes, Knuckles half-clozed his eyes.

"Abo...minable...anti...society?"

The laugh that followed the stammer was sarcastic and clearly ticked off.

"Not quite the language type, are we?"

The fight wasn't quite aimed to each other, not really. Still, there was an indechipherable quality in every word pronounced.

Why shout at a man I hardly knew?

Why be so cynical and hostile?

Why the hell be so tired and confused?

The scarlet echidna strided towards me, his robust figure approaching me quickly and menacingly. My instict of self-defence woke up exactly at that moment, and it adviced me to take a step back.

Needless to say, I cooperated.

Soon he was standing right before me, angry, vexated, and _enormous, _breath tickling my face.

"What's_ wrong_ with you, girl?"

Violet eyes were penetrating mine, fiery and indignant.

"No," I dissed him,"what's wrong with _you!"_

A second of deadly silence dominated the scene. Knuckles smirked.

"Your turkey"

The phrase was repeated for at least one thousand times within my skull, making me change the respective amount of skin colors in the process. Close to me as the guy was, the devastatingly indulging image of me slapping his smiling face passed slowly and torturingly in front of my eyes.

I leaned forward, ready to commit _echidna-cide. _

"My WHAT? I spend my whole day to prepare this stupid _thing_, and you judge my cooking, you-"

Oh, no; that laugh again! That mister was sure looking for trouble. I was ready to burst into tears, not because of him, but mainly because I knew that my lover had only asked me for one thing, _just one thing_, and that specific thing I couldn't manage properly...

"I'm not judging it 'kay? It is just burning!"

* * *

Like trickling water in the middle of some somnolent forest, laugher flew out of a pair of wrinkled lips to form flickering circles in the air. Gradually, it evolved into a convulsing snigger, to conclude with the old officer coughing.

Yet another cigarette slipped from his fingers.

"You'll make me burn this place with your story", he munched the words between snickers, propping his back against the chair. It felt odd to think of, yet so true to know: the irritating young law-breaker's company was starting to grow on him; his story, so simple and convoluted at the same time, evoked memories of his own youth.

Still, no sound had come yet from his companion's side. Mark Anrews rolled his eyes up to meet Knuckles' face; surprisingly, despite the content of the narration, it kept on being unmoving, serious, almost frowning.

He seemed _sick. _

"I wish this were just a glib exchange of news" the voice was faint, as if coming from the depths of a grave. The officer raised an eyebrow.

"But you said-"

"It's not funny, okay!" his torso suddenly jolted ahead, optics seething with rage, "She led a miserable life in there, and for all I knew, I was a moron!"

Their weird discussion came to an end abruptly, as an enervatingly strident-looking nurse entered the room in a hurry to check if the patient was alright. An eternity after, having examined his blood pressure and wounds, she turned to Knuckles' newly obtained friend.

"Please try not to cause him anxiety" for some strange reason, every letter was underlined in way that struggled to seem erudite.

And for some even stranger one, both males could _hear it._

"He didn't", the echidna replied, sounding as if nothing had transpired. Or at least, that's what he _hoped _it sounded like.

"I am happy to hear it", the maiden gave a strict glance at Anrews, "because you have underwent a light nervous breakdown, Sir. It is better not to get very emotional"

And she left, leaving behind her a small cloud of fragrance. _Roses_, the alert beneath the skull blinked scarlet, _her perfume smells of roses. _

Everything turned to a blur, images swirled and tingled naively and carefreely; memories, smells, senses, voices interfered with the very fabric of his reality, comprising his personal cocktail of conflict. From the left ear he could discern the elderly one's voice. From the right one the coarse clicking noise from the nurse's heavy high heels.

_Tap, tap, tap. _

Roses and the subtle waning sound of high heels.

And to think that she had just asked him not to get too emotional.

_Tap, tap, tap. _

* * *

"Shit!"

"Can you please calm down?"

"I said shit!"

"You needn't elaborate, _I heard that!"_

A raging Amy was marching up and down the small kitchen, gloved hands on her hair, as though with an enthusiastic and sudden will to pull them off her head. Her pace, stable, angry, made my heart rate speed up, triggered my spines, stretched my nerves; the uncomfortably high heels she was wearing sounded like a wrench smashing the skull.

_Oh, Goddamnit. _

I watched her mourning over the blackish ex-food while, as I said before, walking pointlessly here and there in distress. Needless to say, temperamental she is, she showed off her admittedly rich vocabulary, not to mention her soprano skills.

Oh, boy.

Unable to handle her unbearable demeanor, I found myself yanking her by the shoulders. I hadn't utilized much power; nevertheless, the rosy hedgehog let out a girlish yelp as she collided against me.

"Being _hysterical_ is no solution" an unexplainably rude me grunted.

And that sorta pushed the female paranoia button; yannow, she screamed, and then cursed, and then broke a yellow vase, leaving the content scattered over the floor.

Yeah: as I realised soon after, I had been quite a moron.

"Of course hysterical! That is your way of saying thank you , may I guess" she hissed emotionlessly, and then her expression changed. Characteristics distorted in an attempt to hold tears back, voice trembling, the jumpy happy fangirl, the shallow damsel in distress, revealed before my dumbstruck eyes a different aspect of herself.

"Amy", was the awkward rejoinder, "What I meant is tha-"

"What you meant is _what you meant!_", she shouted, introducing a long interval of silence, and then moved on with the verbal attack, now abated to a self-convicting whisper "And you where right. I _am _hysterical."

"Look", I failed to reach for her "I don't really know you. It's just that you could-"

"_I tried, okay?_ You don't know how damn difficult it is-to always smile, to always say yes when your mind's screaming no, to wait and wait and wait and say nothing, just because you are waiting for the moment_ he_ will arrive, and everything will magically get fixed..."

"Amy-"

"But why should you? You don't know me, you only come to call me a sappy fangirl and then go away, for I don't have a life, I always say yes and am willing to do whatever you want-"

"Amy-"

"And thus I work all day long to come up against your sulkiness and demands, and promises-"

She was totally out of control. Her words unintelligible; her eyes insane, damp, vacant. The female seemed broken, in a way I didn't have the exprerience to decipher.

But I understood. And it hit me like a stab in the heart, leaving me on short of things to tell her.

"Amy-"

"Shut up!", her eyes were now red, making a moribund clash with the emerald irises. Tears tumbled down her cheeks to her muzzle. "You are a friggin' man! You can't understand, and you never did! You hate me!"

She threw herself on me, fists clenched, girlishly punching me with all of her might. At a loss I was, I grabbed her shoulders to immobilize her; the contact was rough, embarrassed, awkward. I could clearly feel her muscles moving under my palms, face angrily averting an unwanted meeting with mine.

"Look at me", fingers travelled all the way from the female's shoulders to rudely pull her face towards me.

"You hate me!", Amy struggled to move away from my arms.

"I said look at me!"

"You hate me!"

"Ames, stop!" my grasp becoming more firm, I shyly wrapped an arm around her. Her head fell lifeless on my chest.

Then, that feeling; the dark, moribund sensation that usually conquered my mind when the altar was in danger: the subtle message that someone was void of protection: the feeling of her back gently, sorrowfully convulsing beneath my skin.

She was crying.

"You hate me...Sonic..."

* * *

I was feeling numb, the reality being aloof and murky, like the remote memory of a nightmare. Logic seemed to have expired that very moment. I only knew that it was warm and safe, and a familiar figure was breathing in my ear that it was okay. I was afraid, perturbed, confused; by what or who, a truth exiled by my tired mind.

Then, the realization of the unlikely, the reality, the guilt, the embarassment. I had shown my disgusting true self to a stranger, all of Amy that I hated, that Sonic would probably leave me if he learned about, was laying broken in Knuckles' arms.

Kissing him; out of the blue and with the weird impression that this was happening for an eternity, with no conception of how or why it had come to this. A moment of heart-wrentching silence and then...then...

I b-brought my lips on his, brushed them against h-his. The figure stayed unmoving, gawking at the move, eyes wide open.

B-but not for long...that _devastating _muscle that moved against my mouth, after some seconds of inactivity. The warm sensation that somehow felt like home. Defences...who talked about them?

He pinned me against the fridge; I gave; he grunted; I tried to move away; he pulled me closer; I hugged him; he pushed me away.

Fighting, giving, finding.

Love, hate.

Trial.

Retreat.

* * *

I pulled away, being at a total loss. The whole new facts sprinted through my memory to cut my breath. Girls; I had never kissed one before, let alone...

_Amy._

_The passion. _

_The fridge. _

_Being so close to someone..._

"I will help you make some spaghetti", was all I could breathe as I unwrapped my arms off her.

She was wearing an intoxicating, rose perfume.

* * *

I just followed his subversive figure, exiting the kitchen and then re-entering right after, preparing the dinner as if nothing had ever happened.

_But you love him_, I thought, and the preoccupations fled a thousand miles away.


	5. Ch 4: Captive of a Fangirl

**-****Chapter 4; Captive of a Fangirl- **

"_**What makes resisting temptation difficult for many people is they don't want to discourage it completely". (quoted by Franklin P. Jones)**_

The sticky mass of spaghetti was dancing its hot tango with the tomato sauce, bubbling and squealing under the firm grip of heat. The cooker clock soon mocked that it had already been an hour since I had been standing in the same position, hands brandishing the ladle bunglerly as though it were a Star Wars shiny sword. Thoughts in my mind were even more convoluted than the impressively complex chef salad Knuckles was nonchalantly preparing on the countertop behind me. _Awful, awkward, disheartening, confusing, disturbing... _

The images were now taking shape and meaning, everything that was hidden behind an embarrassed blur just a few minutes ago gradually came to life in front of my eyes, getting mixed with the food seething quietly in the casserole.

_They didn't know each other, they could hardly stand each other. But, out of the blue, the girl broke. Just what made her break, she didn't know, she can't tell. Everything is so confused, so blurry. _

_They kissed. She tries to remember. Who had started it? She would bet that it was her, after the stranger scooped her, oh God, he'd scooped her in his arms and whispered it was okay..._

_Why? Just why? Did he respond? The angel self sais no, the devil one grins, yes! _

_Was it a fight? _

_Hmm..looks more like it. A fearful one, so to speak; the winner was the loser and the loser the winner. The dominant became the victim, and the victim dominated. _

_They kissed. And she could tell that for a moment, just a puny, deplorable moment, she had wanted some more. _

I took a deep breath, trying to exile those thoughts.

And the bell rang.

* * *

"Yo, Knucklehead!"

"Hey, Sonic."

My best friend was smiling at me as always, and for the first time in my life, I feared that it was just a mask put there on sole purpose of concealing his true thoughts. That specific night, Sonic's naïve character seemed to only cry out that he had seen I was making out with his girl just some minutes before. Or, even more terrifyingly, he had somehow entered my mind and knew that, without wanting it, I had given in; and guess what! I was _perfectly conscious_ of the action.

Dinner had been served, in an atmosphere of concealed thoughts and fake smiles. Long intervals of icky silence heralded awkward exclamations, then a little bit of harmless chattering. Some random comments followed by "Yes", "Ah-huh" and "Told ya so". And then way from the beginning; all I wanted was to just bury myself in a grave and never exit again, go back home and promise the Emerald to never leave it again, or just stare at my much friendlier pasta.

Then, a pinch of remorse. That is to say, Blue was my best friend-or whatever one can call it, so to speak- and overall a fairly nice fellow; no matter how many times we'd argued, and fought against each other, over time I 'd developed brotherly feelings for him. And vice versa. A-and...even if without takin' into consideration the fact that I had never been much of a good friend...Sweet Jesus, I'd kissed his girlfriend! _The woman Sonic The Hedgehog loved and was going to marry had been mine for five minutes... _

Wait_-mine? _

Needless to say, that was the start of self-destruction. A merciless self-interrogation started soon after that moment, from the simplest of "how"s to the most terrifying of "why"s; First off, she had been the one who'd leaned in and initiated the whole wingding, not me. But she was, you know, _always obsessing over True Blue? _All she ever wanted was to marry him and lead a jumpy happy family life under the emotional auspices of her moronish hero! And now that all of those dreams were true, Amy had...

...And why me, of all males on this planet? Not claiming good with girls-or the female psych in itself, so to speak- I 'd still bet the real Amy had different models when it came to...err, that matter. Just don't tell me I'm like Sonic -can't bear it. Nah. We're _polar opposites. _See, being a cool and handsome hero -all fame and fans- versus being a fairly dangerous anti-social freak engaged to live alone forever on a floating island is an uneven _juxta...position_? That has to be the correct word.

Yup, it's an uneven...gah, whatever it is!

_But jus' a sec, jus' a sec... _

"_You hate me, Sonic". _Why should Rose say such a thing? My friend was fairly childlike and goofy should he want to, but I am more than sure of his feelings towards her.

"_I have to put up with your sulkiness, and demands, and promises..."_

_Waaaait, whawhawhawhawhat? Promises? _

Now you get it why I said before that I was a moron? Only then did my poor brain edit the information. The pink one wasn't talking to me...but to Sonic! It was the only explanation that seemed to fit, yet too far fetched for me to understand; that girl's whole life was dedicated to my friend, from her ridiculous claims for marriage to all those desperate chases everywhere. How could she change like that? And why did she choose me as the sole witness of that well hidden change?

That's why I consciously never wanted any contact with the world.

It tends to bring about lots of trouble-emotional or other.

"Right, Knuckles?"

My head automatically jolted up to meet the hedgehog's green eyes. I hadn't even realised there was an active conversation going on. What was it about? I pushed myself to remember the last words spoken...Sonic had said something about some slander going round that Eggman was up to something, and then he had laughed loudly as always. Much to my surprise-and a little affected by the thoughts in my head- I didn't remember hearing Amy's voice, like she didn't really share the same enthusiasm as her husband-to-be.

"Ummm..yeah, right!" was all I managed to blurt out, stare oscillating from the plate to the girl and vice versa. To tell the truth, what mainly intrigued me was her reaction, the spaghetti not that much; I wanted to find a way out of that confusion, to finish this little meal as harmlessly as possible and then forget everything about it near the old, familiar shrine.

But the fact that she averted her face hampered my conclusions.

All of a sudden, all I wanted was to start sreaming _shit _like mad, just the way Amy had done some hours ago.

"Wassup, man? You haven't eaten a thing yet-and from what I can infer you weren't listening to our little talk here..."

_Shitshitshitshitshitshit..._

"You ain't preoccupied about that hypertrophic gem, are ya? I thought you'd got the Chaotix solve the problem..."

_Nuu, I'm not thinkin' bout the flippin' Emerald! It is jus' that ah kissed your gurl and ah liked it, yissir! Dat's to say, since we're pals we're to share everything, ain't we? Why not our girlfriends? 'T makes perfect sense, huh? Yush, annow you luv it, cuz you're an iddy-ott, and you enjoy being cheated on! Wowie, me 's a genius, no? _

"Oh, come on Sonic, I'm fine", I quickly retort trying to console my nerves, "It is just that I'm not hungry-and I 've heard _everything _you said!"

"Ah, really?" -Geez, he really does want me to tell him _dat we hafta share everything cuz ah kissed his gurl_ -"Then tell me what I said!"

Feeling my blood boiling and rather dizzy from the whole comedy I couldn't quite get, I was ready to open my mouth and blurt out the unintelligible, when the corner of my eye caught Amy quietly stand up and pick up some plates. That was the chance. Not quite knowing what I was up to-since the situation was crappy whatsoever- my feet moved of their own accord.

"Hey, don't think you'll get away with this, Knux! You gotta tell me what's wrong!" -he obviously wouldn't stop being so childlike, and I wasn't at all willing to cooperate.

"I think I'd better help Ames with the dishes while you speak nonsense", Sonic was ready to object, but he seemingly got tired of it, like he used to do with most of things in his life. I don't think it's because he's heartless or something, though; it is rather his way of living, and nobody-not even the female he loves- can change that.

Amy Rose stared at me dumbfounded for a second, then averted a flushed face to walk towards the crime scene, that was still in a mess from the rage of a young gal, the fight between two strangers, the uncalled passion between them...and the attempts of a male to make decent spaghetti.

* * *

I just couldn't control my stare. It was as though the phenomenically lost in his thoughts Knuckles had read my mind; I couldn't listen to the hazardous plans of my fiancee, nor the silly and carefree way he saw danger, leaving all the worry to keep me company when left behind. As always, Sonic hadn't even noticed the desperation in my face.

But then, all of a sudden, _he_ had stood up, willing-he said- to help me with the dishes. I remained silent and cooperated. It would be silly not to, even if my lover didn't seem to notice the flush on my face when the guardian approached me; Sonic The Hedgehog -by natural law- cannot lose something. Especially his hysterical girlfriend. He just averted his gaze toward the TV, ears twitching to hear about his seemingly _favorite person on the whole universe_-and my least favorite, as well: Egghead.

_Non-official sources claim the existence of a hyper-weapon able to transform all Chaos Energy to a new kind of rays able to transform the world into a non-able to sustain life sphere. The location of the Emeralds -the source of that unlimited cosmic power that heroes used to utilize for good via-as the myth claims- their feelings, remains unknown, but our reporters can claim positive of the mad scientist, that has threatened Station Square many times in the past, not posssessing the precious stones. Many witnesses of a recent attack in Westopolis report that..._

"I need to talk to you" I turned my face to Knuckles, waiting for me in the kitchen. I decided to ignore the news report and follow him in with a plate in each hand I hurriedly put in the sink.

"Can you look at me at least? I'm not in the mood to play Hide And Seek you know!"

I obliged. The violet rage seething behind those optics reminded me of what had happened...before; I quickly shook my head, trying to wash all the questions off my mind. Soon, the echidna would leave and everything would get back to normal.

I shivered, holding my breath.

_Do you really want to get back to normal? This life, this dead end? _

_I am not pathetic...or am I?_

"C'mon, go ahead, say what you have to say!" the tone does not belong to me, it can't! God, how have I changed through these two years. I'm broken, rude, and suddenly want to kiss again a man that is practically a remote friend.

_But an interesting one nontheless, right?_

_No. Please, let it be no. _

His breath came wet to my face, with a slow, yet not at all calm, pace. I couldn't understand, and didn't even know the reason of it all happening. Later I just decided it was just yet another ridiculously illogical thing from the many of my life.

Knuckles opened his mouth repeatedly, causing the same silent, unwanted yearning in my entrails, then bashfully shrugged off.

"I'd better go-it's late, after all." It is not, and we both knew it, for our eyes looked at the 10:30 blinking on the cooker, in an amazing showcase of synchronicity.

"Yeah, it is"

Step, step, step. The kitchen door open.

"Knuckles?", where did that come from? I didn't even manage to cover my lips before they utter that stupidity.

What was little, silly Amy trying to do?

He stopped, but didn't turn. Looking over his muscular shoulders, and for no reason, I tried to guess the expression on that almost always harsh, aloof face.

"Where I always am, Amy" he just said, after turning to give me a small, questioning peek.

He left. Sonic followed suit soon after, with a huge, irritating smile on his face.

Only when the lights in my room went out, did I realise the meaning of his words.

A tear tumbled down my cheek.

...But had it really, really been me the one to ask, _"Where can I find you?" _?


	6. Ch 5: Nobody's Rebound

**Chapter five: -_ Nobody's Rebound _-**

**_~There s no hurt any deeper than to fall deeply in love with the idea of love only to realize you gave the idea to the person you no longer love . ~Anonymous_**

**_~Love on the run can run into the arms of the love of one's life, only to miss it for fear of being called the love of a rebound love . ~Anonymous_**

* * *

I never sleep.

The Emerald is a Duty not to be neglected, and surrendering to the temptation of a short nap is a real luxury for me. Yet, if there ever were a way I could actually have a moment of rest, believe me, it is more than sure that, that specific night, my eyes would have successfully resisted the physical need. I was vehemently wishing my friend had never talked me into going for dinner at Amy's house. Suddenly, what was my life before the kiss had broken to a thousand shards; the Emerald was just a hypertrophic Gem-as Sonic with his usual demeanor had put it-, the Island was nothing more than a wandering mass of soil and grass, and, as for me , I was a person with no life spending my days on that specific mass, as though I would live forever. This feeling was so self-convicting, that a headache was throbbing beneath my skull, keeping me away from thinking clearly of the current situation.

A sole scene was being recurrently projected in the personal cinema of my mind; the same actors, the same scenario, the same corny, eighties romantic scene between two polar opposites, the same disarming warmth spreading its tentacles within my body. The same confusing puzzle of moments and feelings. Anger. Compassion. Doubt. Want. Need. Bliss. Insecurity. Remorse. Fear. Her irrational hostility. Her unexpected outburst. Her lips brushing against mine. Her heart racing under my palms. Her body stuck with mine. Her nonchalant glance afterwards. Her boyfriend who's also my best friend. Her eyes everywhere around from that moment and on.

Her.

In a way, the recall gave me a bubbly sensation, the overt happiness of a child tasting chocolate ice cream for the very first time. For a second I wasn't just a spectator to the lives of the others. It had been me the one to share a tender moment with a girl. And, in the most insane of possibilities, it had seemed as though someone had actually wished to be with me. Amy had leaned in and kissed me. Me. _Me. _An angsty freak. A lonewolf. A _monster that could kill her with one single punch. _Worse ,-which was also the most terrifying of all- the hedgehog had _chosen_ all the above over a handsome hero adored by millions of teenage fangirls. Because, let's be realistic; Sonic is gentle, extroverted, kind, funny- the friggin' ideal lover to the eyes of every logical female being on this zany lil' planet. Every time we went out to have some fun and talk about men's stuff, we 'd agree on Sonic opting for the prettiest girl in the bar and me making do with her friend. And I was always perfectly reconciliated with the idea.

But not that night; that night the roles had changed radically.

And my friend? My duty? My life, whom I had tried for years to make simple and self-sufficient? Suddenly I wanted to curse those green eyes so as for them not to ever turn their gaze on a man anymore, to destroy those lips so as for them not to be tasted by another mouth anymore, to pull those hair off that delicate head so as for their smell not to enchant innocent people anymore, to steal her voice so as for it not to caress other ears anymore.

_Waaaaait, wait: Amy's not a model-hell she isn't-, but she's an overall cute gal. But her voice? Her hair trigger-incusing, damn VOICE? _

_You need immediate medical assistance, cuz. _

I was making stories out of nothing, really. Compared to the glorious Sonic The Hedgehog I was jus' a limp duck. Gradually, that chapter of my lil boring life faded from my memory, so much so that I reached the level to even doubt its being true. The month that followed, I dedicated myself completely to the emerald, in a rather excessive manner; I tried to convince myself that it was perfectly natural, and not a way to forget that trace of dissapointment -slight, yet firmly there- that remained, like a dirty residue, in the bottom of my heart.

In any case, everyone had the right to be through a bad patch; the woman was in a difficult moment, out of which I had extorted profit.

Geez, did Amy change me.

I cannot believe that I just used such word as _extorted. _

_

* * *

_The week that followed I heard the two most ridiculous things ever said, and made a discovery.

A discovery which was probably the third most ridiculous thing ever said. But anyway.

"I kissed him! I hugged him, and put _my friggin tongue in his mouth, _and God knows how I kept myself from doing it again, how can psychology find this _perfectly NORMAL?", _I cried in the brink of nervosis, downright unable to handle the whole runaway situation I had voluntarily been dragged into.

The psychotherapist half heartedly shuffled some papers on her lap, and then raised her myopic eyes towards me, giving me a profoundly erudite look; you'd think she briefly stopped to scribble something here and there, but from the way her hand moved on the notebook, as well as my personal experience regarding psychotherapists, it was almost obvious that the doctor was, in fact, drawing flowers, stars, winged hearts and the like.

"My dear", her compassionate tone dissolved my reflexes, "Your sexuality is awfully, awfully repressed."

I sat back at the leather armchair and smiled to myself. Deep inside, I was really indulging in the whole situation, which could not be described but as damn entertainingly surreal: My life was flicking away from my grip, I was seeking help in a doctor that was constantly glancing at her watch, and my consciousness was desperately struggling to feel even the subtlest pang of regret for what had happened between me and the goddamn echidna. Now_ that _wasn't exactly what you'd call a sane situation.

_Now she's gonna tell me about Abraham Maslow's Ierarchy of Needs, may I guess...? _

"The thing is", the therapist ranted with conceit, "That you have obviously lost your inner balance."-she made an indefinite gesture, trying to support her words- "Which is clearly a sign of incompleteness."

The _guru_ remained silent so as to make impression.

_Three, two, one..._

"According to A. Maslow..."

_Bingo! Here we are! ,_I thought, starting to lose my hilarity. Those _brain-fixers _were becoming just too predictable.

"...one reaches ultimate completeness after having satisfied, one by one, their basical needs. Now, to make it clear to you, sweetie, imagine all of your wants as parts of a pyramid, starting from the more primary ones at the bottom, and reaching the less important, at the top."

_And now she's gonna tell me that I overleaped my sexual needs due to my obsession with marriage. _

"Your devotion to the ultimate goal of getting married and having kids has deprived your sexual life of attention.", the doctor was now underlining every single letter pronounced, causing me to wince in an attempt to restrain a giggle.

"Why", I finally cooed, "I had never thought of that!"

"Right now your body's screaming for attention, Amy! Give your relationship a new push!"

"So", my irritation was starting to get more and more obvious, "doctor, what you are actually trying to say is that-"

"Yes, my dear." she nodded atrociously, making me fall in the back of the armchair, and then leaned over and whispered paranoically: "Think of the way you described Knuckles; a powerful male, a temperamental male, a robust male. He is the temptation of the forbidden, a masculine medicine to your needy hormones!"

_Jesus Christ, what was the last time you had sex, woman? _I hardly managed to swallow the line instead of poking it at her flushed face. The whole conversation had taken an utterly ridiculous -yet not at all amusing- path, not to mention it required tons of unhealthy imagination to think of sulky, prissy, and rather conservative Knuckles as a...what had she just said? Oh yeah:_ a masculine medicine. A red, hot, grumpy God Of Sex. _Bwa-ha. Bwa -ha-ha. Ha. Ha.

I let a laugh escape my throat and finally relaxed a little.

"Wha-me? Knux? This is ridiculous! I mean, c'mooon!"

She was funny, at least. Who would take umbrage in the sayings of a female that had thought I wanted to-

The smile froze moribundly on my lips. Oh, Lord. Did I?

_Did I? DID I? _

_Did I actually consider the possibility of having...of visiting...of...of...Did that bitch just use the word "hormones" to use a decent alternative for my..m-my...? No. Nununununuuuuuu. _

_I really think I should get shot at once. _

A supernaturally wide smile of utter thriumph dueled her face as I grabbed my purse and tried to regain composure. My lips were dry, my stomach felt sick to death, and I passionately wished I could throw a knife right between her eyebrows.

"I frankly think my time's over."

The therapist enthusiastically put her pen down, pushing a pair of elegant glasses back on her nose. She tried to look dissapointed, and failed terribly at it.

"How sad." chirped she. "So, Miss Rose, guess I'll see you next week!"

_Yeah, be sure of it. I'll send you my photo via mail. _

_"_Undoubtedly!" I lied cheerfully, opening the door. "Oh, and Doctor?"

She yawned and gave me a reluctant, what-the-hell-do-you-want type, look.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"That angel's head" I smirked, pointing at her papers. "Is way too big."

On my way home I thought the facts over. Nah- I just couldn't want the Guardian over Sonic. No. I couldn't possibly want to destroy my life now that I had finally put everything to a logical order. Millions of girls around the globe would give their right arm to be in my shoes: Future brides of the World's most famous hero, and happily in a relationship for two years. Silly thoughts were out of the question, and totally out of place.

"Fuck science", I distractedly mumbled to myself, stopping in front of a traffic light. "I love my fiancee."

* * *

Of all the fucking hilarious tricks my fate had ever played on me,_ that _specific one was the most cruel.

At moments like that, I'd imagine God as an eccentric fellow, indulging in playing chess with people's future, and myself as a powerless and absolutely stupid little pawn, highly unlikely to ever become something more; apparently, people like me were brought to this world to become breakfast before even approaching the opposite side.

Naw, it couldn't be the case. Either I had misunderstood my pal's sayings, or the annoyingly cool Sonic that was once again standing before me had come on the Island to look for trouble.

"Dawwat?" was the only -incomprehensible, but still- thing I managed to utter.

The hedgehog rolled his eyes childishly, as always.

"Awww, come oooooon, you heard me! There was another attack in the suburbs yesterday! Can't leave Egghead get away with this! You can take care of Amy as long as I'm away, can't you Knucklehead?"

My reflexes abandoned me that very moment. Eyes like tennis balls, I was frozen in my position, staring at the blue speedster with a devastatingly strong wish to excersise my right punch on his smiling face. Sonic really was nothing but trouble.

"Why can't Tails do it?", I pouted, and istantly regretted it. No matter how bad my relationship with his girlfriend seemed to be, me being so negative would sooner or later cause him to wonder -or, even more dreadfully, find out- why.

"Because he wants to drive me at the Base in his new Tornado, have you listened to a thing of what I've said?"

If my head were a kettle, my nerves would have started boiling.

"Oh, Okay, OKAY! I'll do you just this last -mind you,_ last_- favor. But enough is enough, Sonic, I am not quite what you'd call a person with a light programme."

Sonic made a grimache and walked away without even mumbling thanks. Cursing myself for being a real magnet for trouble, I turned my back and distractedly looked at the Emerald shining under the daytime sky on its shrine.

For a moment, I had the worrying impression that it had gazed at me back, trying to warn me of something.

But everything was just in my imagination. I didn't feel anything for Amy -apart from embarrassment, maybe- and she would have most likely forgotten of the tender moment between us.

Either way, I was willing to be nobody's rebound.

* * *

Of all the things that happened during that specific week, the discovery of being sexually incomplete was just the third most ridiculous thing to hear.

The second was that Sonic was going to leave me again. Me. His Precious other half. His bride.

The first was that Knuckles The Echidna, guardian of the Master Emerald and inhabitant of the Angel Island, was going to take care of me, in case Eggman tried to kidnap me, or who knows what else.

In the very first time in my life, I really prayed for the mad scientist to be really, really quick.


	7. Ch 6: Cat Food

Chapter six: Cat Food

"_**A woman thinks she regrets the lover, when she only regrets the love"**_

_**~ Quoted by Franchois de la Rochefoucauld**_

"_**It is as a soldier that you make love, and as a lover that you make war"**_

_**~ Quoted by Antoine de Saint-Exupery**_

When I woke up, the other side of the bed was cold.

I istantly caught myself fumbling beneath the sheets. We had spent the night together, he should be here. It was a well-respected ritual for both of us; every Saturday night we made love, just to wake up together the next morning, with the prospect of having all of Sunday to ourselves. On my bed. In my apartment. And yet all I managed to find was fabric; fabric and the melancholic chill of his absense underneath my fingers.

Fully alert now, I stood on the mattress, propping my torso against the pillows, eyes swifting to glance at the clock lying next to me. The red letters flashed from eleven twenty nine to half past eleven, making me automatically jolt forward, as though propelled by some mysterious switch. Sonic would have woken me up long ago. That is, had he actually been there.

Tears exacerbated my vision, and I mentally rushed into putting the blame on my girlish little hormones running crazy, along with their owner. Okay, there was no reason to panic. No reason to be emotionally unstable to no avail; no reason to live up to my reputation as _the hysterical bride. _I had probably confused the days. Obviously, it was some random day of the week, and ours sleeping together had given me that weird, unexplainably stupid sensation of it being Saturday. Maybe I was going paranoid, what with all those peculiar happenings of the last weeks.

It was only when I walked across my ghastly mess of a bedroom and unhanged my nightgown from the doorknob, where it always spent its nights, that I realized my hands were trembling, wan with pallor. Taking my chances -that is, emotional-wise -I decided not to mind, urging myself with a somewhat exaggerated enthusiasm to descend the stairs, down to the small kitchen, walk up to the kettle and prepare some coffee with mechanical moves.

Allowing the slight lisp of the boiling water distract me, eyes fixated on the sugar and the coffee dancing their brief interchange towards the green mug, I whistled out of tune the first stanza of some rabid new pop song. I think it had to do with a couple not being able to live, neither with, nor without each other. Then a beeping noise informed me the electrical device had done its usual task, and it was time to pour the content on the motley bittersweet duet.

Mincing half-heartedly towards the table, my eyes fell on a small piece of paper lying next to the fruit basket. Feeling a certain vital organ pounding hard against my ribcage, I distractedly plucked an apple and skimmed through the rough scribble. It read, _Knucklehead will be there by afternoon. He can't leave the shrine unprotected, and you'll probably have to follow him to Angel Island, so prepare your things, 'kay? Love you always. _

Although we were amidst a bleak February, it was only at that specific moment that I clenched the silk of my gown tight against my chest, shivering cold. The subtle trembling of my hands spread across every limb of my body, slowly turning to a rather unpleasant shaking. Every nook and cranny of the house was immediately filled with shadows, the fruit suddenly unpalatable in my mouth. An ominous series of images marched, one after another, beneath my shut eyelids; a barely touched plate of spaghetti al dente; the shards of a broken vase scattered all over the planks of the floor; two strangers fervorishly making out, losing their balance and slamming against the fridge; Sonic ranting about his new adventures-to-come; the sketch of a big headed angel; a clock flashing eleven thirty; the rough scribble of someone in a hurry; and then just me, pathetically sitting on the kitchen table, with a half-eaten apple in my one fist, and a crumpled paper in the other.

_I had totally forgotten about this. My memory probably found it too difficult a piece of information to process. _

I angrily buried my teeth in the fruit, cutting a great deal of its flesh.

_And now I will have to pray for him to return alive. And deal with Knuckles and whatever went on between us. And feel weak and useless because he never lets me follow him any more. _

_It's hysterical bride time. Come on, Ames, let's turn lunatic and make a feast of your own emotions, shall we? _

To facilitate the apple's way down my throat instead of choking on it, I took a big sip from the green mug, whose content turned out to be discouragingly bitter, horrendously clashing with the sweet juices of my breakfast. Totally abandoning my previous eagerness to look at the bright side, I quickly made a mental overview of the last month and decided it was the perfect time to panic.

The whackiness of the situation had blurred my brain function so, that -although there must had been some kind of way I ended up there- next thing I remember is frantically stuffing clothes in a small suitcase without really looking at them, pushing like a maniac with both hands to make them fit in, and finally collapsing on a messy tile of garments in a sudden outburst of tears.

* * *

Reluctantly trudging towards the most surreal day of my life, I was breathlessly rehearsing my lines of saying hello in a nonchalant manner, incusing strange looks of confusion and pity with every step forward; apparently, a madman mumbling stuff to himself isn't the most common of views one is likely to come across, even in a crowded and busy place like Station Square.

But I was panicked, infuriated, and restless.

"_Hey, Ames- no, wait, nonchalant guys don't use such a personal thing as a nickname!" _

Having passed a cross-section totally absent-minded, I had barely avoided being hit by an incoming truck. The hairy beast of a driver stuck out his hand in an unpleasant gesture before speeding up and vanishing. More eyes stuck on me, I kicked an empty can of cat food, which turned out not to be so empty after all. Giving a fatalistic peek at the sticky substance that had splattered over my shoe, I entered an offshoot of the main street, where Amy's appartment was.

"_Yo, Amy!- YUCK! That's a monster! What is she, dude, your beer-drinking partner? Oh, my god, I am gonna make a fool of myself in front of that bitch..."_

I was so dangerously close that could even discern the red front door of the high rise slowly walking up towards me. And -even if what was actually happening was the vice-versa- for a second this hair-triggering impression dawned on me, and it immediately seemed that the wood was staring at me with an unpreceeded bloodthirst.

"_You know, she's not a bitch."_

"_'Course she is, what's wrong with you, man? I mean, a month ago we were talking about this hysterical fangirl stuff, remember?I don't see why this has to change." _

" _Oh, but you know, cuz." _

I nearly killed myself by stumbling upon a step. Gulping in sheer dread, I raised my eyes to meet with the vampiric monster of a door, now looming over me threatening as ever. Sweat drops tumbled their way between my eyebrows. What the hell should I do? What the hell did I_ want _to do? All of the thoughts that had tormented me for the last four weeks emerged from the backyard of my mind.

Everything was so simple; even if Amy wasn't as shallow as I had initially thought, she didn't cease to be Sonic's girlfriend. Sonic, on the other hand, was the closest thing to a friend I had ever had. And then me, an abberrant loner with one eternal duty. So, what was this pang of frustration and doubt that kept me from thinking clearly and just going on and doing what I was supposed to?

Oh, gee, blah, blah, blah. Nothing could change now that I had accepted to protect her.

Closing my eyes shut and with the chaotical heartbeat of someone bound to be executed, I pressed my finger against the small rectangular surface that seemed to mock at me.

_Rose. _

* * *

When the doorbell rang, I immediately fled out of the bedroom and literally tumbled down the stairs, as though my clothes had caught fire. An alarm had been set on beneath my skull, shrieking away every second bringing me closer to meeting him, _Knuckles. Is. Here. Knuckles. Is. Here. _

Totally aware of how useless it was, I pressed the small silver button next to the door and croaked, "Who is it?"

Silence fell on the other side, and for a moment I was ready to sigh in relief, thinking it was some children's joke, when his voice sent an unwanted shiver through my spine.

"It's me."

Waiting for no further explanation, I pressed the second silver button , unchained the door of the apartment, holding it half-opened with my left arm, and then fixed my eyes on the stairs. The disheartening sound of his heavy footsteps was becoming louder and louder, making me sick. The shivers had returned for yet another time, the apple was having a major fight with the coffe within my stomach, turning my belly into a battlefield; when Knuckles appeared smelling of some low-quality cat food, I was by all means ready to spill my guts on the floor.

The echidna kept staring at me with an utterly puzzled expression imprinted on his face, as though trying to process some unwelcome thought, while I felt my limbs turn to jello and my heart start to palpitate like mad. For a moment an insane possibility crossed my mind, because all of it reminded me of our last meeting, giving me this weird impression that the guy would suddenly lean in and kiss me. Then my eyes fell on the source of the repelling smell spilled all over his left shoe, and I remembered what an oaf I had to deal with.

"I think..." he finally muttered, raising both arms in the air, and then letting them fall again at the sides of his ribs, as if not knowing what to do with them.

"Don't tell me- you _do think?" _Gesus. That was it-the same thing that happened every time I saw him. I had become cynical and hostile before the guy could even utter a word.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "...I think that we should at least try and be friendly to each other for Sonic's sake."

My heart sank in a mixture of relief and frustration at those words. How could I face that person directly in the eye? It was me who had leaned in, the one who had had an emotional breakdown, who had nearly attacked a stranger, who had betrayed her fiancee. Even now I had addressed him with demeaning adjectives. And he, in return, had had the discretion not to mention anything of the above, and ask me for a reconciliation.

_What a messed excuse of my old self I've become, really. _

"I am so sorry for all the trouble I'm causing, Knuckles." I couldn't believe it was me the one blurting out that specific line. But, by the confused look he gave me, I think it indeed was. For a great deal of minutes, those eerie violet eyes stayed fixated there, and you'd think the guardian was trying to figure out what to do with me. Then he raised his shoulders in surrender.

"I am sorry for the trouble you are causing, too."

I laughed, taking it as a joke, but the look on Knuckles' face didn't seem to falter. Failing to decipher his maze of a behavior, I was left with no other choice but turn my back and enter the small apartment, carelessly leaving the door open for him to join me.

"I left my baggage upstairs. Do you mind giving me a helping hand to carry it down?"

I saw him nod with the corner of my eye, and silently crossed the hallway, heading towards the staircase. Ascending, I could feel his presence behind me, hear his breathing lose its rhythm, then turn calm again, then go frantic for yet another time. The echidna seemed to be thinking of something, and just when I had started wondering what could be going on within his head, a certain voice echoed again from behind.

"He loves you, you know"

At that seemingly irrelevant exclamation, silly little Amy froze in her tracks, just at the end of the stairs. What could he possibly mean by that? How had he guessed the question bubbling in my mind for so many months? Was it so obvious, then? My desperation, I mean. Now I can easily answer yes, but back in those days I was struggling so much to convince myself I didn't really care.

"What?", was the most intelligent answer I could manage, still petrified in the same exact position.

"Back at that night", I distinctly heard him gasp for air when he reached the reference to 'that night', "You had said he hated you."

Suddenly I started to remember. How I had gone nuts and had started screaming obscenities and accusations at the wrong person. How he had hugged me the way a doctor comforts a mad person.

And those stupid three words I had let out. You hate me, Sonic.

"It's not your business." I growled, and barged furiously in the bedroom, followed by an even more infuriated Knuckles ferociously yanking me by the shoulder.

"Oh, but it is my business." his right hand had immobilized me while the left one was forcing me to face him straight in the eye, "Since I happened to be the receiver of your outburst. Now tell me what's wrong."

The last line set me laughing angrily, trying not to show I was in pain because of his arm clenching like that around me, or how embarrassed I was feeling about my behaviour. And, in any case, since when was he interested in the well-being of my love life with Sonic?

"And what do you care? Did your hero of a friend complain about mine running nuts?"

"I care," he virtually screamed in my face, totally ticked off by my latest verbal attack, "Because you are leading a miserable life, and yet you tell no one.", Knuckles lowered his gaze, red with anger. "That's why."

My laughter went even more wild than before, causing his grip to grow tighter and me to remain breathless, insane and confused, trying to control the current situation, like I sensed he was doing. The chain reaction that followed proved that we both failed terribly at it.

"Come on, Knuckles. You barely know me. You barely_ stand_ me. Am I supposed to believe in all this bullshit you're selling me?"

"Why?", his breath now was caressing my face, sending all of my senses into overdrive. "Was I wrong?"

He wasn't. But the realization of it literally pushed me over the edge. I plunged my nails in both his shoulders and struggled to get him off me.

"What do you know?" I was screaming, crying, and fighting at the same time. He had won, we both could see it, and it was eating me from the inside out.

"_Was I wrong?_" now we were both over the edge, screaming at each other, for a reason neither of us could really figure, our initial verbal attack having evolved to a hand-to-hand combat. Only that it was clear who would win; the harder I tried to break free, the tighter his grip would grow, to the point that our faces were touching each other.

"_You love nobody, you are alone, what would you know?_" I insisted, and then his left hand pushed even further, violently, causing our lips to collide.

* * *

Having pushed every trace of logic out of my head, and barely aware of what I was doing, I realized with terror it was me the one kissing her full on the mouth. But it no more mattered who she was, or what I had just done, or even why I had done it. My entire world could be translated to senses. Touch. Taste. Sound. Feel.

Before I even knew it, she had given, tilting her head, holding my face close with both hands, deepening the kiss. It only ended when we both gasped for air, only to nearly devour each other the second after, playing for the first time our shared game of saint and pretender.

Allowing my hands to explore her, I trailed my fingers down her back, enchanted by the warmth of her skin against mine, while my other hand was occupied with the front of her shirt, trying to overcome its trembling and unbutton it. Then she bit my lip, causing me to inanely whisper her name and her to run mad; I didn't know if she was doing it out of desperation, or because of something else -which seemed highly unlikely- but I didn't care, for the very first moment in my life. Maybe I was using her. Maybe she was using me.

But my defences had broken, and it became clear after I yanked her shirt by the side, causing it to slip down her shoulders, and the two of us to trip over a pile of thrown clothes and onto her bed.

* * *

We stayed there until the sun had begun to set and the light passing through the half-closed window had started to grow weaker and weaker. Voluntarily trapped in a room that smelled of sweat, lovemaking, and cat food.


End file.
